


untoward visits

by adamantine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Bad Decisions, Dimilix NSFW Bingo (Fire Emblem), M/M, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, sort of public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26005258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: Against his better judgment, Felix allows Dimitri to hide under his desk when an unwanted visitor arrives.Written for Dimilix NSFW Bingo >:)Prompts: Under the Desk, Half-Clothed
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64
Collections: Dimilix NSFW Bingo





	untoward visits

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this does involve an element of public sex/extremely bad behavior since someone else (an OC) is in the room and isn’t aware of what they’re up to

The King of United Fódlan is hiding in Felix’s office.

“What are you doing?” Felix hisses. “Everyone is looking for you.”

“Are they? I’ve been, ah, reading?” He’s polishing a sword.

Felix turns around intending to alert the worried guards looking for their king that he’s alive and well, just hiding like a coward from wedding planners.

Dimitri lunges across the room in impossibly long steps, tossing his very beautiful and very _expensive_ sword to the ground in order to grab Felix’s arm and stop him from opening the door. “Felix,” he whines pitifully.

“Let me go, half the castle is looking for you.” He tries to shrug off Dimitri’s hand to no avail.

“There’s no to be rash. I told Dedue where I was going.”

So, Dedue is complicit in this farce, saying nothing as the King’s Guard runs around looking for their master like headless chickens? How very like Dedue. He’s probably enjoying it.

“Just tell the wedding planners you’re fine with whatever they choose and to stop bothering you. You have a country to run.”

“They are ruthless, Felix. Be glad they aren’t hounding you about it.”

Obviously not. Dimitri is the one that makes himself available to his subjects, both in invitation and demeanor. Felix rarely receives visitors in his office or garners calls for his attention. He’s been told “he isn’t very personable” and “it’s a flaw that needs correction” as the king’s future consort.

“Fine, I’ll allow you to remain here as long as you don’t bother me.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri releases his iron grip on Felix. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Felix snorts. He doubts that. He would notice Dimitri in a crowd of thousands. His eyes naturally track him, like a compass pulled north.

Dimitri returns to polishing his sword. Felix does his best to ignore him and tackle the paperwork piling up on his desk. Military affairs fall under Felix’s, which isn’t as interesting as it sounds. Currently, the regiment in Enbarr wants newer, shinier, upgraded weapons; Gautier is looking for a Srengese translator; and the outpost in Goneril is in desperate need of supplies, including but not limited to: 20 barrels of ale, an entire forest’s worth of timber, and “enough rolls of undyed linen to make 40something [sic] tunics.” Felix’s eye twitches as he writes his responses. The Embarr regiment under no circumstances will be further armed unless they want to provoke the Adrestian nobles into an arms race, Felix will ask around for a translator for Sylvain, and House Goneril can use their own funds to pay for whatever ridiculous thing they’re planning this time.

He seals his last reply and glances at Dimitri. Ironically, the chaos of the wedding has been wreaking havoc on their alone time together. Not since the early days after the war has Dimitri been so busy, driving himself into exhaustion keeping up with all the demands thrown his way. Recently, all they do in their shared bedroom is sleep, as in literally just _sleep_ —no euphemisms. It might be said Felix is quite pent up from the lack of release. Frustrated even.

“Oi, Dimitri.”

Dimitri looks up from his sword (which at this point is so polished the shine of it is a weapon in itself) and takes in Felix’s expression. It’s a testament to how well they know each other that no other words are needed between them. Dimitri is upon him within seconds, lifting him out of his chair and setting him on the desk for easier access. They exchange fumbling kisses as Dimitri struggles to unlace Felix’s breeches.

“You better not”—Felix pauses to let Dimitri lick into his mouth—“rip anything.”

Dimitri scoffs, as if Felix’s concerns are without merit. As if Felix hasn’t sent this specific pair of breeches to a tailor before because of Dimitri’s clumsiness.

“I mean it.”

“Do you really think so little of me, Felix?” He undoes the last of the lacing and drags Felix’s hips to the edge of the desk.

“I think you have a tendenc—” He cuts off when Dimitri grasps his cock.

Unlacing his boots is an endeavor neither of them has the patience for; it’s enough that Dimitri has freed his cock and taken it upon himself to slide his hand down the length of it, using what little fluid he coaxes out as a lubricant.

Felix’s official seal rolls off his desk, followed by an ink bottle shattering on the ground. Dimitri knows better than to stop for such minor inconveniences. He sucks the skin around Felix’s jaw, his neck, his collar, all as he continues to jerk his hand around Felix’s cock with a dogged determination.

It’s been so long Felix fears he won’t last much longer. He pulls at Dimitri’s hair, maneuvering him with incessant tugs until Dimitri’s mouth is back on his.

A careful knock on the door makes them freeze in place—Dimitri’s hand halfway down his cock, their mouths pressed together and open.

“Your Grace?” One of Felix’s guards, a Fraldarius man. Felix wonders briefly if their increasing passion was loud enough to cause worry—his ink bottle did make a bit of a commotion—but his worries are assuaged when the man continues, “Miss Gavroy is here to see you.”

Felix lets his head hit the back of his desk in dismay. Miss Gavroy is their main wedding planner. Of course with Dimitri missing she would seek Felix out as the next best option. It seems Dimitri picked the worst hiding spot in the castle.

“Get off me,” Felix whispers as he rights himself.

“Felix, please. I can’t listen to another word about napkins or flowers or whatever it is she has come for this time.”

“Your Grace? Are you there?”

Felix makes a split-second decision. He pushes Dimitri under his desk and sits, bringing his chair in as far as it will go as his breeches are still half off, and his cock uncovered.

“Yes, let her in,” he calls with a calm he doesn’t feel.

Miss Gavroy bursts in before he can so much as attempt to pull up his breeches, her steps impatient as if Felix has been keeping her waiting for hours.

“Duke Fraldarius,” she says bowing. Felix’s guard closes the door behind her with the force of a man caging a lion. “I have been most inconvenienced this afternoon, nay, this whole day as my troubles started this morning when His Majesty rescheduled our appointment without prior notice—”

Felix understands why Dimitri struggles to shake her off. She’s a force of nature as she speaks, not the least bit concerned about Dimitri’s whereabouts except in how it affects _her_ , admonishing the King of Fódlan like he’s a particularly rebellious stallion she’s trying to break.

“His Majesty is currently indisposed,” Felix says when she pauses long enough for him to get a word in. “I apologize, I was unaware he did not send a messenger to inform you.”

After an animated tirade about Dimitri’s lack of manners she drops a stack of papers on Felix’s desk and sits in the visitor’s chair. “I suppose Your Grace will just have to answer my questions then. I will not have any more delays or the entire wedding will have to be postponed. All those plans, the invitations—oh I can not bear to think of having to start over.”

A desperate hand claws at Felix’s thigh in a panic.

“That would be truly unfortunate.” He kicks Dimitri off. “I—I suppose I must help in that case.”

She nods, as if expecting nothing else but Felix’s agreement and opens the stack of papers which, Felix realizes, isn’t a stack at all but some sort of book or journal stuffed beyond what its spine can handle.

“Yes, let’s see. On the matter of shrubbery—”

There are a myriad of decisions that go into planning a royal wedding and it seems Miss Gavroy wants his opinion on every single one of them. He feels wholly unqualified to answer them but it matters not because, unlike Dimitri it seems, he answers them anyway causing Miss Gavroy to remark how refreshing his decisiveness is compared to His Majesty’s dithering and how she should have sought Felix’s input from the start.

A certain unreality falls over him as he is assaulted with question after question all while his cock hangs free and flaccid under his desk within an arm’s length of his husband-to-be. At least his chair is upholstered. He shudders to think of the splinters his bare skin would be facing from Dimitri’s office chair. The man refuses to spend money on a new one, insisting that the current one is perfectly fine—he hardly notices the way it’s falling apart underneath him.

As Felix wrestles with the political implications of their tablecloth’s lace patterns, he feels a featherlight caress against his thighs. It might be Dimitri trying to soothe him, an apology for putting Felix into this position, or—and this grows increasingly likely as Dimitri’s touch boldens—Dimitri simply no longer cares about their lack of privacy.

Felix should stop him. He should slap his hand away, kick him, pinch him, something.

“Which will it be, Your Grace?” Miss Gavroy asks. The lace, the lace—what was the difference again?

Dimitri’s warm breath blows across his bare skin. Felix reaches for him blindly, hands tangling in his soft hair, and pulls him closer. Dimitri, ever obedient, swipes his tongue down Felix’s rapidly hardening length.

“Ah—ah, the Dagdan lace.” He covers his mouth, pretending to be contemplative.

Deft fingers close around his cock; sweet lips part around its tip. He bites his tongue to keep from making an untoward sound as Dimitri laps at his cock in what feels like slow motion. Quiet, they have to be quiet.

“Really? I’m surprised. I suppose while the pattern is rather plain, the—”

Miss Gavroy talks and talks and talks. Felix listens with all the attention he can muster, which isn’t a lot. Dimitri dares to tease him with careful licks and silent kisses. He grabs a fistful of Dimitri’s hair and pulls in frustration. A light vibration against his cock from Dimitri’s laughter makes him groan.

“I apologize, I assume you prefer the variety grown in Fraldarius?”

Felix blinks in confusion. Dimitri chooses that moment to finally do something more than mouth at Felix’s cock. A luxurious, wet heat envelopes Felix, sucking him and making him thrust forward in frustration—or attempt to at least. Dimitri pins him in place with one hand, holding him down with the ease of a lion against a kitten.

“Yes—obviously,” he says, channeling his frustration at not being able to thrust into Dimitri’s mouth.

Miss Gavroy nods as if his dismissive reply makes perfect sense. She flips through her collection of wedding documents, asking for his opinion on different flowers. He reacts in vague grunts and uncoordinated pointing, not trusting himself to speak without giving himself away.

His cock hits the back of Dimitri’s throat.

“Yes—that one is—perfect.” Felix points to the ugliest flower he as ever seen—if it even is a flower. It looks like it has teeth.

“Interesting choice,” Miss Gavroy says diplomatically.

Felix’s hips may be immobile but his legs and hands are free to paw at Dimitri desperately. Dimitri takes it as a sign to pull away in a slow, lumbering release before shoving Felix’s cock back inside him. He repeats himself, Felix’s cock hitting his throat over and over in a way that makes Felix want to scream.

“Your Grace, are you all right? You look as if you are running a fever.”

Felix wipes at the sweat on his forehead. He certainly feels as if he’s burning up. “I must have caught His Majesty’s illness.”

“Oh dear, I don’t want to keep you, then. Your assistance is much appreciated.” She stands up and bows. “It will be quite the operation to import enough Brigid flytraps in time but I’m certain we can find a way.”

“Yes, yes, please do.” He dismisses her.

As soon she closes the door, Dimitri releases his hold on his hips, freeing Felix to thrust into him. Without an audience he lets himself be as noisy and reckless as he wants, crying out Dimitri’s name as he releases down his throat.

He is too weak to move. Dimitri pushes him, chair and all, out of the way so he can crawl out from his hiding space.

Goddess, he looks used. There are tear tracks running down his face, his mouth is red and glistening, and his hair is pulled out from its half-up, half-down style.

“Brigid flytraps? Really now, Felix?”

Felix’s cock twitches weakly at the way Dimitri's voice sounds as wrecked as the rest of him. “Shut up.”

“Hmm, I think you rather like hearing my voice like this.”

Felix huffs and looks away guiltily.

Dimitri chuckles in that infuriating way of his when he knows he’s right but is too cordial to say it.

“I’ll leave first,” Felix says, lacing up his trousers. His men would never say anything about it but he isn’t brazen enough to walk out of his office with Dimitri at his side. “Make yourself presentable before following me. I’ll be in our chambers.”

“Oh? Taking the afternoon off?” Dimitri cocks his head to the side.

Felix throws him an unamused look. “This is for your benefit.” He presses the heel of his boot against the bulge between Dimitri’s legs.

“Ah,” Dimitri says, sounding breathless. “I will do as you say then.”

“Good.” As if he doesn’t derive pleasure from making Dimitri come undone. He considers staying and continuing their fun in his office but unless he wants to use Dimitri’s sword oil in questionable ways, they’ll have to part, at least for a little while.

That’s fine. He trusts Dimitri to make his way back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> 🙈 i can’t take responsibility for my dmlx bingo submissions because everything is dimitri’s fault actually


End file.
